


Always Going To Last Forever

by Hekate1308



Series: Sherlock Holmes/Sally Donovan Universe [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's still difficult to imagine Serlock Holmes married to anyone, and yet she is going to be his wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Going To Last Forever

Having a soon-to-be brother-in-law who is the British Government comes in handy if you don’t want any fuss made about your wedding, and neither her nor Sherlock are keen about publicity. He’s well-known, almost famous, and without Mycroft, the newspapers would be all over their wedding. In fact, she would be surprised that not one story about her has appeared during all these years they have been together, if she didn’t know just how far Mycroft’s influence goes.

He’s also useful when it comes to the date, because even though she doesn’t want a big wedding, she still wants to fit in a nice wedding dress. Two days after Sherlock asked her, Mycroft came by to inform them they could marry whenever they wanted. They chose the thirteenth of March, which gave them a little more than a month to arrange the ceremony (neither of them wants to make a fuss, and really, they have been together for years) and still allowed her the vanity of buying a dress.

Which is why she is going to buy one today, a little more than two weeks before the wedding. Naturally, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Mary and Sue Stamford insisted on accompanying her, and her sister is on her way to the store as well.

She smiles when she remembers how her sister reacted to the news that she would have a nephew or niece and a brother-in-law soon.

She called her the morning after Sherlock asked her to move into 221B and marry him and decided to tell her about the proposal first.

Judy was elated. “Sally – that’s wonderful! I had been wondering when he’d pop the question...”

“He didn’t have much choice” Sally answered, biting back a chuckle.

There was a moment’s silence, then Judy asked, confused, “What do you mean? I don’t think you can force Sherlock to do anything – “ she broke off and Sally could hear her breath hitch through the phone.

“Sally?” she inquired, barely able to hide her excitement, “Are you – is there – are you pregnant?”

“Yes” she replied matter-of-factly, and Judy almost screamed in the phone.

“That’s – that’s wonderful! I never thought – I mean, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t like I didn’t think you were perfectly happy, but – oh Sally!”

“I know” she said, grinning.

“And how’s the father? Treating you well, I hope?”

“It was a surprise for him as well, but – he wants the child. And to marry me, apparently.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

They decided to meet for lunch the next day, then she hung up. Sherlock had wandered into the kitchen at some point in the conversation and was making tea – a strange sight, if you asked her. She wouldn’t even have been sure that Sherlock knew how to make tea.

“How did she take the news?” he asked, even though he’d listened to her side of the conversation. It was nice of him to ask, though, and she smiled and kissed him good morning.

“She is delighted. I think she’d already given up hope we’d settle down”.

Sherlock snorted. “I don’t think we’ll ever able to call ourselves “settled down””.

She agreed and laughed.

After she had drunk her tea and had some toast they went down to Mrs. Hudson’s together.

The old lady was even happier than her sister, hugging them both and chatting about them and John and Mary having a baby around the same time, fancy that – and then, of course, they had Georgina too – and her boys were becoming fathers and – and – and –

Her and Sherlock’s parents had died a long time ago, like John’s and Mary’s, but it seemed like their children would get the best adoptive grandmother they could ask for.

She’d almost forgotten to call Greg but did so immediately after they’d returned to – their flat (it’s still strange, using that word, but it fells right nonetheless). He didn’t sound as surprised as she’d thought he would be, so maybe Molly had dropped a few hints. He was, however, quite happy for them.

And so the last three weeks have been filled with wedding preparations, which was probably good, since she hasn’t been allowed to work ever since she found out because a pregnancy over the age of forty is considered risky; they have decided not to marry in a church because neither of them has ever been religious, and anyway it doesn’t really matter where they marry. Mycroft, however, has other plans; a week ago, he texted them that they would marry in the City Hall, and she told Sherlock not to argue with him.

She didn’t tell her fiancé why, although it’s obvious: as long as she gets to marry him, she doesn’t care when or where.

She still can’t believe that she’s going to be his wife, after everything. And yet she’s carrying his child.

Sherlock was with her on her first appointment, a little over a week after she’d found out she was pregnant, and she didn’t need anybody to tell her that he (and Mycroft) had made sure that she got the best gynaecologist available. The doctor treated her with more than respect – almost fear – asking if she was sure that she felt alright, urging her to call her at all times.

In the cab, she’d glared at Sherlock.

“Was it Mycroft?”

“I don’t know what you mean” he answered, of course. Sherlock Holmes would never admit he was concerned about someone.

She snorted.

“The size of the office kind of gives it away. He has to be an expert. Sherlock – I’m fine.”

He didn’t deny it. He simply answered, “We have to make sure” and that was that.

And she has to admit that she’s feeling well, even wonderful, although she’s already in her third month. She doesn’t even have a bump yet – and she isn’t likely to have, until a month from now on, at least. But she’s carrying a child, her and Sherlock’s child, and sometimes, she simply rubs her belly and wonders how she or he may turn out. What the child will like. What he or she will want to do with his or her life.

Although looking at its parents, there is one thing it won’t be: ordinary.

The one thing that counts it’s that it’s their child, a child she never thought she’d have, but wants nonetheless, and he feels the same way, and it’s more than enough.

And so here she is, standing in the store, contemplating which dress she should buy, surrounded by four other excited women. Not that she is not excited. It’s difficult to imagine Sherlock Holmes being married to anyone, and yet she will be. They have been together for almost six years, she shouldn’t be nervous, and yet she is.

Judy, as was to be expected, is the overprotective big sister.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?”

“Judy, I’m fine. I’m only in my third month – I can stand for a while”.

Judy doesn’t answer, but still keeps close to her, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes in a Sherlock-like manner. Mrs. Hudson, meanwhile, is busy looking at all the dresses with Sue, while Molly tries to distract Judy and Mary is busy getting two glasses of water, one for herself and one for Sally (just like Sherlock has rubbed off on her, being married to a doctor has rubbed off on Mary).

As she thought, it’s Mrs. Hudson who finally finds the right dress after two hours of looking and trying on and talking.

“Sally, look at this!”

She has to admit it fits her perfectly. She’s always been the type for elegant if somewhat simple dresses and she immediately knows she doesn’t want to get married in anything else. Judy is struck speechless for once, while Molly and Mary hold back small screams (or at least try too).

Sherlock, naturally, demands to see the dress immediately when she returns and she has to explain to him that, yes, she believes, or at least doesn’t disbelieve, the superstition about the bridegroom seeing the dress before the wedding, so could he please stop staring at the bag? He finally shrugs and goes back in the kitchen, telling her on the way that John forced him to buy a suit today, trying to sound like he did so only under protest. She smiles and says nothing.

A week before the wedding, Judy, Molly, Mary, Mrs. Hudson, Sue and Louise Knight – they meet up regularly when her and Henry are in town and of course they are invited to the wedding – show up and drag her out for her “stag night”, while John, Greg, Henry, Mike and even Mycroft do the same to a rather disgruntled-looking Sherlock.

Neither her nor Mary can drink, but they really don’t need it to have wonderful time full of gossip and dancing. Mary is radiant and finally bursts out with the news that she and John are having a boy. In the next moment, she apologizes for taking the spotlight away from the bride, but Sally waves a dismissive hand.

“I expect you to be just as understanding when I start bragging about our baby” she jokes and Mary winks at her.

“When do you find out what you are having?”

“Shortly after the wedding, the doctors think”.

Then they discuss baby names; John and Mary are going to call their son Thomas, and Sally makes everyone promise not to tell John about their plans to call the child Hamish should it turn out to be a boy.

They stay until three am and (coincidentally, of course, it’s not like Mrs. Hudson is arranging anything) arrive home at the exact same time their respective better halves do. Sherlock is a little tipsy, and she tries her best to glare at the others, but doesn’t quite succeed.

Especially since she finds, once they are alone, that she really can’t complain about the mood he’s in or the plans he has for the rest of the night.

Soon enough, it’s the day before the wedding. Mrs. Hudson insisted that she spent the night at her flat because it’s “tradition”. When she says Sherlock good night, she realizes something.

“Sherlock – are you nervous?”

“No” he answers quickly, “of course not” but he’s fiddling his fingers and she knows him too well by now to believe him.

“It’s alright” she answers, “I am too. Marriage – it means forever, after all”. She chooses not to elaborate that today it doesn’t have to. They know it perfectly well.

“But Sally” he says, frowning, “There was never a question whether this relationship would last for the rest of our lives. At least not for me”.

It’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to her (especially since it’s clear that he’s confused why she should think so, “It’s logical, after all”), and she barely makes it out of the door to go to Mrs. Hudson’s, who spends hours happily making tea and talking about the future. 

Thanks to Mycroft, the City Hall looks beautiful, even though he insists that “he didn’t have any say in the decorations”. She takes the hint and thanks Anthea, who just smiles at her and tells her she looks great before sitting down next to her boss, perhaps just a little too close, and she makes a mental note to ask Sherlock about it.

Thankfully, there are no reporters, just their friends and family, like she always dreamed about as a girl.

As expected Sherlock looks gorgeous in his suit. To her credit, though, he is struck speechless when he sees her, much to Molly’s and Mary’s satisfaction. Mrs. Hudson is busy pointedly not looking for a handkerchief in her purse, because “everyone should be happy at a wedding, not cry”.

John is Sherlock’s witness; Molly is hers. They have decided against special vows, because they know how the other feels about them, and it is enough.

Mrs. Hudson might only dab her eyes occasionally; Judy is crying openly in her handkerchief while her children look around, completely fascinated by the wonderful flower decorations. Louise and Henry Knight are holding hands in another row, the doctor holding her other hand to her stomach in a gesture that has become very familiar to Sally, and she wonders if this means they can open a crib now.

Sherlock kisses her far more enthusiastically then she thought he would, considering everyone is watching, and now it’s she who has a few tears in her eyes; blames on the hormones.

She takes his surname; Sally Holmes has a nice ring to it, and Donovan-Holmes is just too long. He protested at first, claiming he “quite liked the sound of Sally Donovan”, but she shook her head. Sally Donovan was the woman who called him freak and meant it once upon a time. This is a new life, their new life, and why not have a new name to go with it?

The celebration lasts until well into the next day. Barely a week later, they are at the doctor’s and –

It’s going to be a boy. Sally laughs when she hears it and Sherlock raises and eyebrow.

“Think about it” she explains. “Thomas Watson and Hamish Holmes. The next generation of best friends in Baker Street”.

“We don’t know that yet”.

“Trust me, Sherlock” she says, taking his hand, “I do.”

Because she does. And, looking at the rings on their fingers, she knows something else:

It’s going to be happily ever after no matter what.


End file.
